Emma's Mistake
by Yankee1
Summary: R&R *chapter 7 uploaded!* Coming romance (I never said it was(n't) J/E!) The team is kidnapped, and this time, there is no one there to save them but themselves, and the ones they love the most.
1. Chapter 1

Emma's Mistake  
  
(This is really just a prologue, but I'm calling it Chapter 1. I am going to beg you to keep reading, because it gets so much better and longer in the 3rd chapter. The first and second chapters were just kind of setting up what was going on.badly written things. Just please don't give up on this because the first two aren't good. If the 3rd isn't, then by all means, stop reading. But I can't very well just get rid of those 2 chapters, so don't give up hope.just bear with me until the 3rd chapter. Thanks! Cheers---)  
  
"It's got to be in here, I know it is!" Emma took a fleeting look across her cluttered bedroom, looking impatiently among her magazines, clothes, and books. She clumsily ran her fingers through the stacks underneath her bed and stood straight up to investigate her chaotic shelves, which were home to numerous novels, CDs of earthy songwriters and aspiring singers, and notebooks that recounted her adventures at Mutant X. Although none of the journals had any locks by which to bound them, all of her teammates knew to stay out of them; they were the forbidden fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. The rest of her room was relatively neat because she had seldom time to mess it up. She scurried across the room in such a brief motion that one would have likened her to a ferret, with brown hair that had to take an outstanding leap to catch up.  
  
"Emma! Hurry up! We're going to be late!" Jesse shouted from the bottom of the hard wood steps. He tapped his foot incessantly, fearing they were going to be late. Soon, his toes were in rhythm with the second hand on his watch, which, needless to say, didn't please him any. "We need to leave.NOW!"  
  
"Hold on, Jess, I'll be there in a second! I've almost found it!" was the hurried reply from Emma. She had resorted to flinging things across the room (with the risk of puncturing the wall) in order to find her objective. Her mind had almost remembered where she had last had it, she could almost recollect the exact time she had it, but for whatever reason, she kept drawing a blank. She struggled to keep her senses, bearing in mind Jesse wouldn't be too happy if she came down empty-handed, or if she stayed up in her room too long. "Oh, well," she said to herself, standing up straight, pressing her hands down on her clothes to smooth them out. "Almost isn't enough."  
  
"Sure it is," Jesse answered, "just not right now." He grinned at her, as she looked back up at him. He took a swift glimpse around her room, lifting her agnes b. jacket off of the her tan nightstand lamp with his finger. He took note of the unkempt room and its inhabitants, and had a gentle chuckle to himself.  
  
"What's so funny?" Emma demanded to know, with a beamed face. She knew that her room was messy, but she didn't want to admit it, especially not to Jesse.  
  
"Nothing, don't you worry about it. Look, we can go now, and you don't need to bring it. Come on!" He ushered her towards the door with quick smile and a mild swaying of his hand.  
  
"Fine, fine. I'm coming!" She smoothed out her skirt, brushed off her knees and headed for the door where Jesse awaited her. He just stood there, waiting for her in his orange-tan leather jacket and jeans, with his eyes gleaming. His blonde hair was neatly jelled and he waited patiently while Emma took a last minute check into the mirror for her hair and makeup. When she approached the door, Jesse put his arm around her shoulder like she was his kid sister, and said contentedly, "Alright, kiddo, let's go. But when we get back you need to clean this room before you go anywhere, young lady, or you're grounded for the next 3 weeks!"  
  
"Gee, okay, big brother!" Emma and Jesse walked downstairs together, and she was still laughing about their inside joke. He was always her big brother since she joined the team of Mutant X. Jesse always felt a compulsive need to protect her, even though she didn't need protecting. Ever since she had been on the team, she had felt like a kid sister that he had always wanted and needed to shield. He wasn't sure what it was that he needed to shield her from exactly, but lately, there had been an undercurrent of suspicion in the air; something terrible was going to happen to Emma---and he couldn't let that happen. But he had tried to shrug that suspicion aside for about a week now, and especially for tonite, because he wanted to have a good time.  
  
Shalimar and Brennan stood at the bottom of the steps, chit-chatting and flirting a little too openly about the latest gossip the GSA and Eckhart might be doing. Shalimar had just recently finished telling Brennan about how she could easily beat the next guy that walked into the room, and was playfully punching him in the shoulder. As they saw Jesse and Emma slip into sight they muttered a few, "It's about time," lines and made way for the car.  
  
"Tonight, I can't wait to go to this new bar called Momax. It's supposed to be the hottest place in town, full of eligible guys Emma and I can get our hands on!" Shalimar said excitedly, overlooking Brennan's unrest. He fidgeted a little in the drivers seat, listening to Shalimar continue on about the bachelors and bachelorettes that were going to be at Momax. "Brennan," Shalimar said, leaning in closely by his face, "You'll have a great time, trust me!" Brennan only smiled, "Ah, you know you're the only girl for me!" he said jokingly, not sure if it really was a joke or not. But his mischievous smile gave him away, and the whole car started busting up in laughter. Out of the side of Shalimar's eye, however, she noticed a thin, black figure that was following their car. Her instinct told her to warn the crew, but she wasn't sure just yet. She cast a caveat look towards the rest of the team, hoping they'd take the hint.  
  
There was screech. Slam!  
  
A shatter of glass cascaded over the friends.  
  
The car came to a sudden halt. ```````````````` 


	2. Chapter 2

(Okay, I know the first chapter was really short, and really lacking in details, but I swear I'll try to make up for it here. There was a lot of things I forgot to explain in there, so I edited it, and there's A LOT more stuff in there. So, if you happened to be one of the bored ones that decided to read my fanfic that I wrote 4 months ago, please reread my first chapter. Thanks! Cheers--)  
  
Emma looked up but could see only darkness. Someone had a hand over her mouth, or, at least she though they did. It could be duct tape, or possibly her mouth was just too sore to even move A shudder quivered up her spine, making her shoulders shake with cold, or was it fear? She couldn't tell, and she didn't know. Lying on her side along the concrete, icy floor, it was hard to figure out where she was. Her vision was clouded, and everything in the room..or, what she thought was a room, was tinted in blues and grays. She tried numerous times to shake her head to see, but it only made her headache worse, and pound harder. Slowly, trying to shift into another position, her legs ran across a muddy, and deep puddle. As the water splashed about, it felt refreshing and soothing, but dreadfully cold and painful at the same time. Of the frequent thoughts running through her skull, she tried to joke with herself , "Man, of all the days not to have worn pants..". But even that could not cheer her up. She knew that she had to figure out where she was, what had happened, where the others were, and if they were okay.  
  
She couldn't see, but from the mixture of touches she had gotten from around the room, she could tell there was nothing to see. It felt cool and damp, as if she lay in a sewer somewhere. There was a slight aroma of a recognizable chemical formula, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. There seemed to be something so proverbial about the place she was in.despite its state. In her mind, it seemed to be darting from one place to another, knowing the exact path to get out of the place she was in. Being the psionic that she was, she knew she could use this to her advantage, although she wasn't sure that if this emotion she was getting was her own memories of this dwelling, or if it was someone else's.  
  
Scanning the room, she tried to take visual notes. There was water dripping from the ceiling; she couldn't see it, but the obvious splashes in the background were a dead give-a-way. Listening even harder, there was another sound in the room, but she couldn't quite match what it was. Sort of like a heavy heaving/breathing, yet it didn't sound human. The hard, uneven concrete brick walls made scratches along her hands as she ran them overtop. A cool draft blew in from the roof, and cracks in the walls and floor gave her a rough idea of what the room looked like. Images still were fuzzy, and she tried to rely on her other senses to give her some idea of what was going on. In a sudden instant of realization, she tried to run her fingers along her neck, searching for the cool, black, and smooth feel of the subdermal govenor. But it wasn't there. "Well, that rules out possibility #1," she alleged aloud to herself, although there was a nagging feeling in her that suggested she might be wrong. She was about to shrug it off, when she heard a voice from the other side of the room.  
  
"Yeah, you've got that for sure." Emma jolted right out of her skin, but calmed down long enough to try and identify the familiar voice on the other side of the room. The tone of voice was hoarse, and it sounded painful for the other party to try and speak. She couldn't tell how far away the body was---the voice itself was barely audible, straining to be heard. Trying to etch alongside of the freezing floor, she inched towards the direction she thought the voice was coming from. She couldn't stand up, and could only move along her side, brushing her bruised shoulders along the concrete, with dust and dirt sweeping into her mouth. As difficult as it was, she kept going. In an effort to have a conversation going, Emma spoke out,  
  
"What?" as if she hadn't heard what they had originally spoken. A meek reply was heard from, what only Emma could guess, the far off corner of the room. She tried to peer harder, but to no avail. Moving somewhat faster and closer, she neared the object in the distance. The husk voice sounded so familiar, but foreign at the same time. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't identify who it was.  
  
After her eyes had been tightly shut for an extensive period of time, she tried to open them again. It was impossible for her to keep them open as she scotched along the floor, but she had to take a much-needed break. It was too exhausting for her to do this, especially with her upper-body wincing with pain with every move.  
  
Examining the room, her sight was being slowly returned and her conversation with the familiar stranger was gradually getting somewhere. Although it was evident now that no one was in the room that was going to cause her any danger or harm, and the person who was covering her mouth was non-existent, she couldn't help but feel afraid. After all, after being kidnapped, and awakening in pain, one couldn't help but feel scared.  
  
She squinted her eyes some more, and it suddenly came to her who her mysterious stranger-friend was:  
  
"JESSE!" she tried to scream, but only came out as a hoarse whisper, as she feverishly tried to crawl towards him. He smiled roughly, but the pain was in his eyes as he glanced toward her. Wincing at the pain, Emma would stop at nothing to get to him. Something was desperately wrong with him. She could read it in his eyes, and feel it in her heart. 


	3. Chapter 3

Her chest was pounding as she neared towards her big brother. Something was definitely askew about him, and although she wouldn't admit to it to Jesse when he asked her, it was obvious by her tone of voice. She examined him closely, and could easily tell that he had been beaten and broken. Her heart took gigantic leaps in her chest.fearing for her best friend's life. Deep inside, she had a gut feeling that Jesse would be okay eventually, yet he seemed so weak, so much more feeble than the sweet, funny, macho guy that she'd come to know. Pulling herself even closer towards Jesse, she surveyed the damage that had come to him.  
  
"Oh, God, Jess." was the first thing that came out of her mouth, and it was an instinctive remark. However, it was the exact thing she had to tried to keep herself from saying, as not to bruise him any worse. Laying heavily onto the wall, he had propped himself up against the corner so he could watch out the low-end window. Eyes were heavily dropped and it seemed he'd gone through Hell and back. His skin, that was normally smooth and pink had turned rough, and tinged brown with dirt. Along with mussed hair, and his clothes now loosely thrown about him, she almost didn't recognize him. But when she looked into his face, he shined those baby blues up at her, and forced a smile onto both their faces by saying:  
  
"What, don't think I'm up for the Most Handsome Man in the Universe Contest  
  
just yet?"  
  
"Not yet, but heck, in a day or two, you may be ready for the World's Best Trailer Park," she giggled back at him, and he grinned. There was nothing in this room but a pile of bundled curtains, an old rug, and a leaky roof. "This isn't the ideal living space, is it?" she joked towards him.  
  
"Not exactly," he said, "but considering the circumstances, I think I did alright."  
  
"Oh, and what were the circumstances?"  
  
"Oh, you know, the usual: horror driven situation in which y'all rely on me to save the day," he said, trailing off. It was evident by his tone of voice that he was trying to avoid telling Emma what had happened. "But I think it's more important now if we can find a way out of here, and back a safe house."  
  
Laughing at his first statement, it grew into a flashback of when he had rescued the team at Genomex.before she and Brennan had joined the team. Emma knew not to pressure him any further about what had previously occurred. It was obvious he wasn't willing to. So, instead she tried to keep his spirits up by directing the conversation away from the car accident.  
  
"Yeah, I suppose you're right, we do take you for granted. But must you always look like a Nazi in those GSA uniforms when you do?" It was a private joke between them, one that always prevailed to put a smile on their faces. Jesse couldn't help but chuckle, and they continued their small talk as Emma tried to use the curtains and help clot the blood that was dripping off his left arm. Distracted by the conversation, Jesse was forgetting about the pain he was in. Using one of the drapes that had been strewn about the floor, Emma was tender towards him as she wrapped Jesse in it. He was shivering so badly, she could only look at him with pain in her eyes.  
  
Taking great pains to keep the conversation away from what was actually occurring, Emma encouraged some small talk. Although they were both burning with hunger and shivering from cold, they managed to keep a good spirit about things. Taking rags she had found in the corner, she wrapped them around Jesse's many cuts and scars. She first dusted them off, and thought about washing them. Except, she wasn't sure how safe the water in the place was. She dampened them a bit, and decided to bind them together. With every wrap getting tighter, an occasional groan would seep through Jesse's ever-present smile.  
  
Knowing Jesse couldn't fall asleep, she tried to do things to keep him awake. Nothing was working, but then again, there wasn't much to work with. She struggled to find the slightest bit of entertainment around the room, but there wasn't any to be found. Heaved with disappointment, she sat on the ground with a bad temper, exclaiming,  
  
"Now, if only we had some light, I could make some shadow puppets." Jesse tried his best not to laugh at his friends goal, but the entire situation was hilarious to him. His eyes slowly began to darken, however, when Emma said those 8 words that he had dreaded to hear, but knew were coming:  
  
"Jess, what happened? Where are Brennan and Shalimar?"  
  
He sighed for a moment, but decided that now was as good a time as any to tell her, even though he didn't want her to know.  
  
"C'mon Jess, I need to know," she encouraged. "We need to get out of here."  
  
  
  
"Well.I don't know exactly how to begin," Jesse told her, "So I guess I better just start with the last thing you remember." He looked over at her, and scaled her with his eyes. "What's the last thing you remember?"  
  
Emma had to think hard to try and recall what was the last thing she knew happened. She scratched the back of her head, replying, "Well, I remember there being glass. Everywhere. I don't know if the windshield broke or what," she looked up at him, "but we definitely need to get some new glass." Jesse involuntarily laughed at her, while he strained to think. There was so much left to tell her.so much he still didn't know. He stared at the wall for a few brief moments, before returning his gaze towards Emma. She tried to stay as quiet as possible, hoping not to somehow change his mind about telling her. He let out another heavy sigh and began:  
  
"Well, Emma.That glass was not only off the windshield but the other windows in our car as well. We had crashed into some invisible object in front of us, and totaled the car. But it was impossible to see it, or even foreshadow this event. I saw Shalimar look at something outside our window, and it seemed like she was about to warn us before it happened. However, it wasn't fast enough; we hit the entity head- on. Shalimar and I were still conscious and were able to get out of the car, while you and Brennan were lying there motionless," he said, grimacing at the mental image that he was able to recollect. He could still see it: there were twisted metal everywhere, bent pieces of the fender, and the doors had practically fallen off by themselves. And then there was his two-team members.friends.unawake.not knowing if they were dead or alive.He tired to shake them image out of his head, but no avail. He looked down to Emma, patiently waiting for him to go on. Emma didn't need to use her powers to know what Jesse was feeling inside. It was so evident, painted on his face like a portrait by Thomas Kinkade.  
  
"Shalimar and I tried to fight them off best we could, we tried.we really did try," Jesse suddenly blurted out, and Emma cocked her head to study his face. She gently patted his knee, reassuring him.  
  
"Who? Who were fighting? Talk slower." With that, Jesse tried to reconstruct his thoughts more accordingly. He didn't want Emma to think he was powerless, and how could he prove that if he couldn't even put a decent narrative together? Even if it had a not-so-great ending, or rather, beginning, at least he could put it together so he sounds sincere with his words. He swallowed hard twice, and then, without skipping a beat, continued.  
  
"We had just hobbled out of the car, not injured whatsoever, maybe a bruise here or there.but we hadn't even gotten completely out of the car yet. And they attacked us. There wasn't any warning, no sign, nothing. They---"  
  
"They, who? New Mutants? The Strand? The GSA?" Emma slipped in.  
  
Jesse decided to finish his sentence. "They're not the GSA, that's for sure. If they were, we wouldn't be here now. Little is left to doubt that we'd be stocked up in some stasis pod having one nice, long nap.actually, that doesn't sound half-bad right now." Emma just smiled at him, and jokingly punched him on the shoulder, giving him the cue to continue with the story.  
  
"Its not the GSA, and there's no way it could be The Strand. Nonetheless, it's a new mutant group of some kind, all right. But whatever it was they were coming for, they didn't get. However, they did get Shalimar," Jesse solemnly told her.  
  
"Shalimar?!" Emma's voice rose with heightened excitement. Her friends were dropping like flies, left to right. How could Shal have been taken? she thought. Shal was the bravest, most physically skilled of any of them. How could she have been caught? If they could capture her, they could get any one of us.  
  
"Yeah, while Shal and I tried to battle off these mysterious people, one of them must have had a tranquilizer gun or something, because before I had the chance to even notice she was getting slightly drowsy, they were trying to shove her away from my site. She fought hard; you should have seen her. I've never seen her get that way before, the adrenaline really must have gotten to her. If only.."  
  
"If only what, Jesse?" Emma urged, trying to keep the conversation going. She fondled a loose thread on her skirt, trying to distract and keep herself from running out the door to find her friend. He looked at her with uncertainty in his eyes, and gently rubbed her left hand. Using his thumb, he stroked her knuckles, trying to smooth out the invisible wrinkles. "If only."  
  
After a small moment of silence, he lunged into a rambling, "My God, Emma, you have no idea how hard I tried to get her back. I couldn't even tell they had her for a brief second, but even in that small split time, I charged at them, even becoming intangible for them to take their hands off me, in order to get to Shalimar. She looked so helpless, you know? I know It's difficult to imagine her like that, but she had this look of vulnerability in her eyes. You have no idea what I was going through. This feeling just came over me, like it was my duty to get her back. And I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried, they were always on me, keeping me back.  
  
"I couldn't help her. I couldn't. By the time I even got around to thinking about how I could help Shalimar, not even enough time for my instincts to react, my head was given a face-to-face greeting with the cement," Jesse said, closing his eyes. "After that obviously, I don't remember anything. They did things that were surreal. They were inhuman."  
  
Emma was silent for a moment, unable to respond. Jesse, instead, took a breather, squinting his eyes and try to hold back some of the reoccurring images that came up into his face. It all came back so clearly now---why? "Why? Why must I go through this again?" he said to himself, eagerly trying to rid the images of the car wreck, and Brennan lying, unmoving, on the side of the car. Emma, he remembered was also unconscious, had been somewhat blank from his memory. He remembered that like a plaything, she had been slung onto the outer side of the window, not bleeding but had turned a pale blue in color. She was sitting in the front passanger seat, and one arm had been mashed against the side of the dashboard. Her other arm had been twisted into such a shape that resembled an S; it seemed to be fine now, he couldn't imagine how much pain it had probably caused her. Yet, something seemed wrong. Now that he thought about it, the placement of Emma's comatose body seemed awkward. "It's not poss--" he started to think, but Emma brought him back to reality.  
  
"What happened next, Jesse, after they knocked you down?" She asked in a soothing voice, and instead of looking at her with a prolonged look in his eyes, he changed his manner drastically, telling her the next events as if they were statistics, or even old facts he had just happened to recall:  
  
"After they knocked me down, my world went black. I remember waking up later-it couldn't have been more than a half an hour most---and feeling as sore, almost as if I'd hit myself by my own mass. It took me a while to get up; I could barely move. It took most of the strength in me to get back to the car." He paused briefly, trying to remember. "I saw you and Brennan lying there, and figured it would be best to get out of there. I would have called Adam on the ComLink, but it was gone." Flashing his rough, tan hand at Emma, she noticed the narrow white line that had once kept his ring. She nodded, and he moved on.  
  
"Then, after remembering approximately where we were, I started to look around. Most of the shops and stores around here have been abandoned, because Shalimar had wanted to take the shorter, easier route to get to the club. She had said she and Brennan been through here before, and knew where they were going. I slowly began to recall that there was a deserted market store just around the corner, maybe two blocks off. Since this part of town has been basically uninhabited, no one saw me. It didn't take me too long to get here, but," he said, casting a small grin out the side of his face, "You aren't as light as you look." Emma smacked him on the shoulder, and chuckled at the small joke. "Hey! You can't say that to a woman! It's like asking for the death penalty!"  
  
Jesse shook his head, smiled a bit and moved on. "Not too long after I got here, maybe 10 minutes, Brennan stirred. Don't worry, he was all right. A tad drowsy, perhaps, but fine. He woke up asking all the usual questions, 'what happened?' 'where am I?'. You know, typical things."  
  
"Yeah, but I'm sure that, as opposed to me, you answered him when he asked you!" Emma interrupted.  
  
"Heh, well, at the time I didn't see any reason not to. We both checked up on you afterwards. Boy, are we lucky that Adam had given us that lecture on on- the-spot recovery care. But don't tell him I said that," he said, with a smirk. "Apart from what you can't already tell, bumps and bruises and such, we discovered you were in critical condition. Your pupils showed us that you could have died had you not awoken within five hours," Jesse swallowed uneasily. He had almost forgotten how much that had tugged on his and Brennan's heartstrings. Losing her would never be something he could do, not for anything.  
  
"When Brennan realized the shape you were in, he immediantly charged out of  
  
here, looking for Adam. His ComLink had been taken as well, but the blood from his fingers must still be on there. I know my fingers had bled, so Brennan thought that Adam had no idea of our situation. With the exception of being tremendously sore and minor damage to his left forearm, Brennan left me here with you, having me watch over you and to recuperate. His mind also seemed to be preoccupied with Shalimar's whereabouts, as well. He figured that if he could get to Adam, he could find Shalimar, help you, and then find out who the hell these people were." Jesse gulped. He hadn't talked to anyone for that long a time, or that much, before. He wasn't used to these one- sided conversations in which he controlled. He searched Emma's eyes for a reaction, and finding none, he gently massaged her shoulder for reassurance. Her face showed shock, as if she was dumbstruck with what had happened to her team. Instead of asking her to respond, he leaned his back against the brick wall, and slowly blinked.  
  
Emma sighed, and her eyelids felt heavy with sleep. There was so much to think about, everything that had happened-how it was that she had been 'asleep' through all that. But even more so was that she could tell by the strain that Jesse's voice in certain parts of his conversation, and the almost-tear in his eyes, took that he didn't like for other people to know how defenseless he could be when it came to his friends. And it wasn't because of his pride, either.it was the feeling of not being able to help when those you loved are harmed. A way he had felt his entire life, one that he thought he could be able to shield himself from.  
  
Jesse had yet to fall asleep, and she leaned against her best friend. Blinking slower and faster, she was overwhelmed with exhaustion and her breathing was slowing to a more even and unhurried pace. Although Jesse was dreadfully tired as well, but he had so many things on his mind, like Brennan and Shalimar, it seemed impossible to sleep. He let out an uneven sigh, which Emma could recognize immediately. She patted his leg soothingly, and they both tried to sleep leaning against each other. She stared back into the nite, and was silently whispering to herself the possibilities of the next day. When they seemed to be too much, she decided that sleep was the only thing that could get her into the next day. It was still and quiet, and the room was filled with dark blues and black shades of light.  
  
It was still dramatically cooler than Emma had anticipated the weather to be, and she was shivering. Her teeth clattered together, but she tried to quiet them unsuccessfully. Jesse pulled her closer to him to keep her warm, even though he himself had goosebumps running up and down the sides of his arms. Emma let out a small breathe, and the puff of white was easy to be seen. A slight quiver went down her back, although this time it wasn't the cold. The possibility of tomorrow made her shudder. She thought she heard a creak from outside the door, but reasoned with herself that it was the wind howling. When it happened two more times, she almost woke Jesse, but decided against it. Instead, she wormed her way into a comfortable sleeping knook, and prepared to fall asleep.  
  
As Emma was about to fall asleep, sitting slightly curled and upright against the wall next to Jesse, Jesse suddenly jolted straight up, as if out of sleep and realization, his eyes gleaming white, and wide open, whispering ever so quietly,  
  
"They're here!" 


	4. Chapter 4

"Jesse? What are you talking about?" Emma questioned, trying to rise, pressing a hand to her sore back. Her body had stayed in the same position for so long, her muscles were aching, and still bruised from earlier that day. Rubbing it, she waited for Jesse to respond, but she didn't receive any answer. Quietly, she asked again, waiting, "Jesse?" Her pulse seemed to be more audible than ever before, and it quickened even more when otherwise all she could hear was silence. She could feel Jesse move from her side, and she put her hand on his arm, pulling him back. His skin was cold, and he roughly withdrew her hand from his arm. He rapidly turned his head to Emma, reading her face with his eyes. His eyes scaled her worry, and he gave her hand back to her, placing pressure, showing his intention to keep her from standing up.  
  
Instead of an answer, Emma felt two fingers press against her lips, warning her to be quiet. Resembling Shalimar's flexibility and cat-like nature, he maneuvered himself away from Emma, away from the wall. As Jesse slowly backed up, he left Emma to hide behind whatever she could find. Moving seemed to be difficult for him, and she could hear slight groans and heavy breathing. But they soon dissipated, leaving her with only a vague idea of where he was. The darkness filled the room, and the air was so still that even an ant could have made an echo. The moon removed itself from behind the clouds and positioned itself in Emma's favor, casting its light through one of the windows. She could see a clear view of Jesse, and once again, could only see in tints of blues, grays, and black. He was smoothly creeping across the room, his back pressed against the wall opposite Emma. Using his back against the wall and his hand on the floor to support himself, his motions were unvoiced and swift. Stopping at a callous- looking door, he peered at it, and waited to the left of the doorknob. Jesse curled up the wall, leaning into it, almost disappearing inside it.  
  
Furious, by having let Jesse go by himself, Emma slid against the wall. But she reasoned it within her mind, noting that there wasn't much she could have done had she gone, and he was only 50 or so yards in front of her. His face was expressionless, and Emma debated on whether or not to read his mind, searching for what he was going through emotionally. Almost achieving a peaceful look, but there was a hint of concern and almost an atmosphere of distrust. His eyes peered through the darkness, squinting in a struggle to understand the visuals in front of him. Emma couldn't help but want to read his mind; she had to know what he thinking. She decided against it, but the temptation was there, and she tried to busy her mind with other things: how was she going to hide? What is going happen? Who is on the other side of that door? It was impossible to tell.or was it? Her thoughts were interrupted when a large cacophony was heard on the other side of the wall. She shed a caveat look over to Jesse, who was busy studying the voices that were reacting. The moon shifted, and Emma could no longer see anything.  
  
Her instincts kept her alert, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Nothing could be seen.Emma tried to readjust her eyes, but it was as helpful as a candle in a sandstorm. She felt against the back of the wall she was leaning against, and propped herself up. She knew it wouldn't help her vision any to stand, and it wouldn't probably create noise if she tried. She silently leaned against the brick, and ardently waited for the moon's light to return. Her senses were at their peak, picking up traces of all kinds of creaks, aches and clatters that she had never noticed before. She could almost swear she heard the pitter-patter of feet above her head, although she knew it was impossible. Trying to shake the image, she closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on the sounds around her. There were no sounds that seemed unordinary to her, and apparently the clamor that had previously occurred made the things behind the wall freeze. Deep in thought, Emma almost didn't realize that the luminescence the moon was giving on her eyelids. She immediantly looked up, and over to Jesse. In horror, she read his face, where all the youth seemed to have vacuumed out of him, and only grim wear-and-tear remained. The appearance of his face was a look of terror, one that hid of the most evil things she had ever seen. At first she thought he was telling her to run, but then she realized it was telling her even more not to leave him there alone.  
  
Emma couldn't fight the temptation anymore, and she tried to get a read off the people behind Jesse's wall. She reared her head back, and flashed her psionic powers toward them, trying to get a hit off them and who they really were. She prayed that her powers would pull through for her, and that these creatures had not put up some kind of blockade against them. Suddenly, without any rhyme or reason, Emma was caught up in a whirl-wind of emotions. She struggled to grasp an image, but there was none. She could barely get a read off these things, as they seemed to have barely enough thought to keep a stable emotion. Their thoughts were flying, jumping everywhere. Emma couldn't figure out what was going on.random images kept appearing out of nowhere. Flying around aimlessly, she was abruptly with them, inside of their minds. Thrashing about, blurs of pictures and colors flooded the air, and Emma waved at them, trying to make them disappear. She kept trying to end her powers, trying to get herself out of there. But it was no use, and there was no escape: it was as if they were inside her own mind, and her thoughts, fears and emotions were being bounced back onto herself. There were reflections of herself, her teammates, and even individual shots of Adam, Brennan, and the rest. She couldn't make sense of anything: she tried to rack her brain back and forth, resisting these intruders in her mind. But in spite of the efforts to keep her out, she did receive one emotion, one that came clearer than any picture she'd ever previously obtained.  
  
Hastily, she was thrown back into reality, outside of their minds, and delving deep into her own. They could only leave her with vague images, as if the ones she had seen inside their own brains somehow never existed. The blurs were still present in her mind however, and as she tried to interpret them herself, she came up blank. It was incredible.it was fascinating, deathly horrifying and still filled with complete serenity. It was like a quiet chaos being inside their minds, and every minute of their everyday was filled with it. Sending chills up her spine, she tried to shake it off, but it was almost impossible-and she almost didn't want to. The feeling itself was sensational, like a form of ecstasy and angst morphed into one consoling sentiment. Calming herself, she tried to focus, thinking of what the image was. It was almost indescribable, the picture that was sent back with her.she could feel it, touch it, see it, hear it, but there were no words. Nothing could possibly describe what was seen. Frustrated, Emma threw herself into the image, noticing its every curve, depicting its every motion. It could be felt, it could be heard, but nothing more. All it could do, or even hope to do, was give a faint sense of their bedlam.  
  
Her eyes struggled to open, knowing that if they did they would have to come back to the reality of the moment, with Jesse in danger and her in waiting. Eventually, they exposed themselves to the moon's beam, making Emma squint a few times to regain her sight. Stroking her eyes, she turned to Jesse, expecting to see him eagerly pressing himself against the wall in anticipation. Instead, she saw him carefully studying her, for she hadn't realized that he was watching her the entire time she had been in her reverie. He had an expression of concern, but as soon as she looked towards him, it left his face. It was replaced by curiosity, and Emma simply shook her head, wordlessly telling him to forget about it. She knew he would probably never understand it---and how could he, if she couldn't? Instead of sending him the image, he pointed a phased finger toward the wall, asking Emma for permission. At first she couldn't understand his intention, but after a moment it started to sink in. A guise of apprehension took form on her face, and she bit her lip. It didn't matter who it was on the other side of that wall, she wasn't about to let her best friend face it alone.  
  
Jesse could read her mind, and he shook his head. He began to phase his entire arm, expressing his urgency of the situation. Their bodies communicated an entire conversation within a few seconds, arguing, debating, and downright yelling at times. Emma questioned Jesse, asking him to let her come along. But he mouthed to her that it would be best for her to stay, and take guard. She squinted at him, and finally conceded, shrugging it off. She rolled her eyes, and said to herself, "Always the hero." Trying to lighten the moment, she sent a picture of Jesse's head on Superman's body and smirked. He laughed, having to cover his mouth to try to remain silent. He rolled his eyes and within a second, and no warning to Emma, he phased through the wall.  
  
Emma's heartbeat jumped rapidly, and she waited anxiously, hoping that Jesse would appear at any second, and he would come back to her side to say, that there was no one there, that there was nothing to worry about, and they would return to the Sanctuary in the morning. The next few seconds felt like hours, and her eyes suddenly widened and every nerve in her body stood on end. She heard a scream, one that pierced through her ears and sounding like the cry of a hurt animal. It vibrated off the walls and it was surprising that none of the windows had cracked. Within an instant, all of the most cruel ideas rang through Emma's mind, and her brain connected the upset cry to what she had tried to read off the people behind the walls.and she grimaced. However, she stopped, and took time to think about the penetrating wail. The voice did not belong to Jesse. It was decidedly more.feminine. 


	5. Chapter 5

Wavering a bit, somewhere between a realm of trance and truth, Jesse struggled to keep his ground. He kept his eyes closed for a purpose, in almost certain denial of where he was. Feeling groggy and bleary, his head pounded and ached in response toward after-effects, which he concluded he must have been drugged. He slightly shrugged his aggrieved brain, in an effort to release the pain. Not daring to move any further, he waited for some clarity to spring forward. There was a slight ringing in his ears, and an almost audible tone of voices could be heard. Unable to decipher them, Jesse squinted his eyes, keeping his mind concentrated on interpreting the incoherent language that seemed to be spoken. Before he could infer anything, a wave a nausea passed through his lower body, and he opposed it, begging his body to keep it in-the fumes were repellent, and consisted of nothing better than a thick aroma of all that could be considered vile, putrid, and rancid. His resistance soon gave way, although instead it resulted in a forceful, and violent coughing. Sputtering and hacking, Jesse's body could take it no longer and began wildly convulsing.  
  
Strangely, not a soul was around to witness this event, or to soothe Jesse's infirmity. Eventually, his coughing grew more subtle and gentle in its continuation, and soon, the complete episode had elapsed, leaving Jesse to "rest." Rest as much as possible, not knowing what was going on or with whom he could speak. The coughing spell had forced Jesse's eyes to open, and they widened even more now, taking in the atmosphere. It was unpleasantly cold, sending small shivers up and down his spine, making him want to rub his goose bump-covered arms and hands together. There was a dampness about the room, and Jesse wanted nothing more than to actually see something. A coat of darkness had cascaded over the room, and Jesse could see no more than was a few feet in front of him. Small drops of rainwater found their way off the ceiling, splattering onto Jesse's eyelids. A slight moan escaped from him as his entire body shook with a throbbing pain, in an effort to wipe the globule from his eyes.  
  
That proved difficult, however, as Jesse soon realized that his hands were bound together with metal straps and he was lying forcibly on the ground. His right hand reached for them, sailing his fingers along the smooth metal, calculating the strength it would take to uncoil. In a circling motion, Jesse tried to determine the make of this metal. Staring at the shimmering hoary, he couldn't establish the type that this object was made out of-which baffled him. The first thought that came to his mind was to phase through the straps, but because of the mysterious origin of the material, it refused to let an intangible object go through it. In utter disbelief he threw his fists at the ground, slamming them into the concrete beneath. Gritting his teeth and chewing on his lip, he muttered a few unmentionables and tried to think of a way of escape from the shackled torment. Tiny beads of sweat were beginning to stream down his face, and his face showed the signs of annoyance and irritation. Thinking fast, he tried to remember what had happened before he got there.  
  
That scream.that scream that he heard coming into the wall. That was all he could remember. That was all he wanted to remember. It sounded like...a growl. A bravura and petrifying snarl: the piercing shot through the veins, slicing, pricking and stabbing at every turn. The cry that wasn't his. The cry that seemed to come out from somewhere inside of himself that belonged to the voice of another. It conveyed everything he was feeling inside, but most of all it trapped the one emotion that he was never willing to admit: fear. His terror lay hidden in his eyes-the one true window to the soul. But the fear was not for him, and a terrible panic thrashed wildly inside of him of the thought that his friends needed him- and he couldn't help them. Silently chewing on the inside of his lip, he closed his eyes into deeper concentration. In a fixed trance, Jesse slowly began to mutter under his breath:  
  
"Something happened between now and when I went through that wall. Something to do with that scream." The wailing seemed to forever ring in his ears. It screeched like a jaguar, but had the determination like..Shalimar. Suddenly, before Jesse could begin another conscious thought, his entire body sprang forward, in an utter disbelief of pain. His entire faced cringed with it, until it was expressed through every wrinkle on his face and every hair on his body.  
  
Scarcely blinking, the memory of the recent event made his shoulders tremble. He knew there wasn't a minute to lose, and quickly tried to find another way out beside his "handcuffs". Looking towards his feet, his shoulders soon fell with dismay when he realized they were bound also. His forehead crinkled, becoming increasingly intent on the situation. He refused to quit; Jesse began to try a new method of escaping. Within seconds, there was another pain: his chest lurched forward, twisting every which way until he couldn't feel his limbs anymore. Gritting on his teeth harder, he tried to buckle down and brace it, "like a man," and soon his eyes began to water. Convincing himself that it was sweat, he sucked up what strength he had left in him. His hands began to shake with the prickly episode, but he refused to become weak. Soon the pain had passed, and his body collapsed with relief. Recovering his breath, he panted heavily, and struggled to swallow. It was hard to comprehend what sick, twisted minds had decided to put him threw this, but Jesse knew only one thing for sure: he was in the hands of the enemy.  
  
In the blink of an eye, blinding lights hung over Jesse. Hissing, a voice right next to Jesse's ear whispered,  
  
"Where is it? This would be over so much quicker if you would just tell us where it is." Jesse recognized the voice. It was too familiar to be forgotten.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Jesse sneered at him, still wrestling with the straps that bound him to the floor.  
  
Slowly circling Jesse, he flashed a small, pocket-sized object in front of him, with dials that ran from one to ten. Cast in a brilliant metallic silver, and he ran his finger across the smooth surface. In the middle, there lay a dial, with arrows point a specific numbers. Currently, the dial read '3,' and it seemed pretty clear to Jesse what the dial was for. Jesse scorned the object, knowing it was the indicator and reason for all his pain. The predator smiled at Jesse and said, "Let's just see what number '4' is like, shall we?" The terror in his eyes soon dispelled and was replaced with a counterfeit numbness. He could still feel the pain as sharp as ever, but his outward appearance could not longer respond: it was only number four, and the dial had already paralyzed (for now) his reaction system.  
  
He neared Jesse, leaning into his and said, "Now will you talk?"  
  
At a loss for words, Jesse tried to remain calm, even though he certainly wasn't. He might be afraid, he reasoned, but he didn't have to show it. "Right now, I just have to get out of here." He tossed his eyes up toward the accuser and questioned, "What do you want to know?"  
  
"Where is it?" It was the least he could have said, and more than Jesse could answer.  
  
"Where is what?" Jesse probed. "I can't very well tell you where it is, until you tell me what it is," Jesse snipped, trying to test his boundaries. Although he hadn't said much, the glare in his predator's eyes told him he had gone too far this time.  
  
The smile faded from his face as it rapidly turned into a "Listen, smart one, you know damn well what I'm talking about!" Taken aback by this sudden retort, he immediantly pressed the dial on five, and watched Jesse writhe, trying to endure the dosage. Squinting his eyes against the florescent light, he observed Jesse's torment with a sadistic grin. Jesse collapsed on the chair, barely breathing.  
  
He lifted one eyebrow and cocked his head, adding an arrogant flair to his words, "Let's try that again." Jesse could only shake his head in disagreement, resisting the nauseous feeling in his stomach. His throat was choking with pain, a few small drops of a red liquid fell at the corner of his mouth. Gasping, he faced his opponent. With no words he could mutter, he simply rolled his eyes and slowly closed his eyelids in exhaustion. Becoming delusional with the pain, there was no choice but for him to open his eyes, and just stare into the face of his attacker.  
  
Even though Jesse could barely hear him over the thumping of his own heartbeat, he could read his lips clear enough, which whispered, "No mercy." Swallowing harshly, he attempted to focus his blurred vision long enough to notice an elongated needle, threatening to poke the vein in his elbow. Too weak to remove his arm from their clutches, he could only think about what they were planning on doing to him-what was in that syringe. However, before the needle was injected, another's arm snatched the nozzle from his grip and shrieked,  
  
"Leave him alone! We'll kill him if we do anymore!" Neatly clad a Placing the hypodermic safely out of reach, he scoffed at the man, "You kill him, and the whole thing is useless!"  
  
"He's invaluable to us anyway!" the man began to reason. He reached for the needle once again, but the man standing adjacent to him slapped his hand, and sneered, "I wouldn't try that again, if I were you."  
  
A few more indistinct mummers were exchanged, but one sentence struck Jesse as particularly odd: "We already searched the girl, what value can he be to us now?" the man had argued, but already knew there was no use resisting any longer. The rest of the conversation was just an incomprehensible mummer to Jesse, and they had moved further away from Jesse, almost completely disappearing from sight. But their position had become trivial to him: What girl?  
  
Girl? Girl? What girl? Jesse thinks, his eyeballs slowly rolling around in his head, without a conscious motion. His mind became a whirlwind of thoughts, surronding who they could possibly mean. What is Emma? Shalimar! They had captured Shalimar! His blood began to boil, and his face felt hot. "By God, if they did anything to Shalimar..," he said to himself, cursing under his breath. Letting out a long breath, he could, he licked his lips, and slowly ran his teeth across them, picking up accents of the blood that had run on his cheek. But was it Shalimar? Rolling his neck, scarcely looking up and Jesse thought back.  
  
He had reasoned that if must be Shalimar they were talking about, but it there was something peculiar that made his mind flashback to the car scene: Emma's position. There was something that had struck him as odd earlier, Emma, he remembered was also unconscious, had been somewhat blank from his memory. He remembered that like a plaything, she had been slung onto the outer side of the window, not bleeding but had turned a pale blue in color. She was sitting in the front passenger seat, and one arm had been mashed against the side of the dashboard. Her other arm had been twisted into such a shape that resembled an S; it seemed to be fine now, he couldn't imagine how much pain it had probably caused her. Yet, something seemed wrong. Now that he thought about it, the placement of Emma's comatose body seemed awkward. Her position couldn't have been natural---  
  
What the hell was going on?  
  
--And that scream.that scream that he heard coming into the wall. That was all he could remember. That was all he wanted to remember. It sounded like..a growl. A bravura and petrifying snarl: the piercing shot through the veins, slicing, pricking and stabbing at every turn. The cry that wasn't his. The cry that seemed to come out from somewhere inside of himself that belonged to the voice of another.  
  
In a struggle of testament and will, he opened his eyes with blurred vision, one last time to see a blonde-haired..thing.. He thought he heard a slight mumble say his name..  
  
A tumultuous twister of emotion and thought enveloped him and he fell into an unconscious state of submission. 


	6. Chapter 6

With brute force, the wooden, aged door was roughly thrown open as the scientist, which had caused Jesse so much discomfort, rushed in. His face was colored a beat read and painted with rage; his skin had cast a look of a pale spirit, and his breathing was heavy and uneven. Gritting his teeth, he reached for the closest thing next to him, a metal-wired chair, and threw it against the wall, biting his lips as he heard the clashing. A table that had lain adjacent to him was suddenly rammed into the same wall. More crashes and bangs occurred, but he had only just begun. There were at least four more tables in the room, and within seconds they had all been flipped onto their backs, leaving the items on top to search elsewhere for escape. Nothing was immune from his reign of terror---he grabbed anything in his path. In his wrath, he took an entire tray of medical equipment and hammered it against the wall. His hands seemed to be reaching for something, anything, that might bring his hands relief. The adrenaline was pumping widely threw his veins: everything seemed to be frustrating him to some painful extent. Even the most inconsequential of items seemed to be enough to anger him and they were soon cascaded across the room and broken into a thousand pieces. More crashes and bangs. Soon, almost everything was on the floor, either beaten or broken. Gradually, he began to slow down, losing energy. The crashes became less frequent, and soon the man resolved to throw smaller objects. In a last fit of fury, he mustered all his strength and started kicking all the pieces that were now upon the ground. Finally, after the last of the objects had been kicked, he stopped. Surveying his destruction, he let out a long, calm breath, and his shoulders drooped. He closed his eyes for a brief second, and tried to resurrect a calm composure.  
  
Amidst the ruin of the room, there was one item left untouched by his rage: a desk. Piled on top, were four confidential and classified documents, a beaker being used as a pencil holder, and a few other miscellaneous bits and pieces. Sitting down at the desk, he furrowed his eyebrows, his hands brushing into his temple. Blinking slowly, he ran his palm across his forehead and ran it through his auburn hair. Scratching the back of his head for a moment, he pulled at the ends, thinking. Staring into space, he kept playing with his hair, analyzing the events that had just occurred. He resumed to put his hand on his forehead, and it stayed there as he used his other hand to rub his left eye. To keep himself balanced, he pressed his two elbows into the desk, then slowly placed his head on the durable, metal desk. He began banging his head against the desk, as if it would help him think. Leisurely, his head rose into the cuffs of his palms, and then placed his fingers aside his lips, as though he were deep in thought. As though he had come to a conclusion in the evaluation of the previous affair, he commenced into grinding his teeth together. In a sudden, swift motion, a thrust his beaker/pencil case across the desk. Smiling, in almost silent satisfaction, he carefully listened to the beaker shatter across the floor. The pencils scattered across the smooth landscape, jumbled in their masses, rattling across the flooring. It took a few moments before they settled into their resting place, misplaced and some wrecked. It was obvious that the anger had not ceased within him, and he was still kicking himself.  
  
Setting to work, he picked up one of the pencils from off the floor and started looking over his documents. A new file had been placed on his desk earlier that day, and he had failed to recognize its presence. On the top of the manilla folder, in large bold letters read: CLASSIFIED. A tiny sigh was released from under his breath, as he had come accustomed to reading such documents. He never could understand why people bothered to write "classified" because they were always the first to be looked at by any intruder and always seemed to come into the public's knowledge one way or the other. "It's not as if anyone actually pays attention.it probably just entices them more to read it," he murmured to himself.  
  
"How could I have been so foolish? To think that this would actually work! This isn't my fault, it's-" he stopped mid-sentence to turn around. Turning his head, he had the strangest feeling someone had been watching him, although he was facing the only door in the room. The only other possible place was the window, but it had been barred and plated with blurred glass. He shrugged it off, and continued his work. Yet the eerie feeling crept up over him again, as if someone was peering from the doorway. He looked up from his labor, but again, no one was there. Shaking his head he buried himself inside of his work, trying to forget. Work made him a recluse; it was his career, his hobby, his escape, his wife, and his life. Sighing, he started to wonder whether he made the right choice. But there was no use in thinking of that now. No, none at all. There was no way to go back, no way to turn back the hands of the clock, no way to think about what might have been...  
  
Only a few moments had passed when another noise aroused his attention. Averting his eyes from his work, he looked up to see that his door had moved two feet from the doorway. Since there was visible evidence of an intruder, he knew that he had not imagined it, but as he began to scrutinize the sequence of events, the door had somehow shifted back inside the entrance. He blinked slowly, and reared his head back, trying to make sense of the situation. After staring at the immobile door for a several minutes, he looked back to the door. Concluding his mind had been playing tricks on him, due to lack of adequate sleep (four hours within the last three days) he placed his hand back at the desk for more analyzing. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, as the apprehension in the room grew thick. Soon, the door slightly creaked and his eyes flashed back at the door, awaiting the next move.  
  
The creak continued, but this time it was from behind the door. Cautiously, he arose from out of his chair and stood up. Eying the door was hesitation, he pondered for an instant about whether or not to check what was causing the disturbances. In an effort to calm his quivering heart, he tiptoed across the floor, making sure to avoid the mess he had created before. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he watched his shaking hand reached for the doorknob. His fingers began to tremble when they touched the handle, and as they placed themselves upon it, it jittered back at them. Slowly, they turned the handle, leaving him behind the door as it opened. Waiting a moment behind the door, he waited patiently for the mystery to walk in. When nothing happened, he twisted his head and peered around the side of the door. No one was there, and with a disappointed, but confused, look he went back to his desk, closing the door behind him. Even as he sat back down in his chair, watching the doorway, a peculiar premonition came from within him, and he felt an intense warning, urging him to look behind him once more. Mouth yawning, eyes closing, he felt a sudden urge to fall asleep. Placing his head upon the desk, he began to daydream about the day that this would all be over. In a swift motion, he jerked his head up and rubbed his eyes, knowing that he must keep going. Duty called and he must finish his work...if he was going to remain alive. Reluctantly, he started looking at the 'classified' document again, reading and rereading its contents.  
  
"This can't be right," he said to himself, and tried to look over it again. Within this medical file contained information that didn't seem possible. Perhaps there was something he was missing, and maybe there is more information in the file, he thought. Stroking his chin, he examined the bottom portion of the paper. It had stated that his signature was required, indicating that he had understood the file. He placed the paper aside from the rest of the file, and hovered his pencil over the bottom line. Starting to sign it, he stopped suddenly when he realized that all the medical files required him to sign in blue ink pen. Stooping down to the floorboards, he discovered one at the corner of the desk. Crawling on his hands and knees, he reached for the pen, when he reached back with a horrifying screech. His hands covered the sides of his forehead and he began to widely punch his seat, violently thrashing around. Crinkling his temples in pain, fierce grunts were shouted and he grinded his teeth against the pain. Gnawing at it, he inched towards the wall for support. Screaming so hard that nothing came out of his mouth, water filled his eyes and small beads came running down his cheeks. Falling against the wall, he felt a small pressure pining him to the wall. Nothing had touched him, and the pain began to relinquish long enough for him to vaguely see something across the room.  
  
It was a blurred image, unlike anything he'd ever seem before, and he was unable to find anything distinguishable. However, an ominous voice quaked within him, in his head, and it was only then that he had recognized who it was.  
  
"Where is it?" The menacing voice echoed throughout his mind, and he shivered at the thought of it. He knew he would have to encounter the inquisition, however he was disinclined and reluctant to answer, knowing his answer wouldn't be well desired.  
  
"I don't know-the boy won't speak!" he managed to squeak. Terrified of the coming response, he cowered and tried to climb into the wall, trying to disappear away from the reaction.  
  
His panic was soon answered, with a bigger assault than he thought he could have ever imagined. Everything inside him mind was a bleak chaos- nothing made sense, and it seemed to him it never would again. With austere disarray invading his mind, the only thing left to do was wait for it to subside and then accept the impending punishment.  
  
The foreboding voice interrupted his frenzied thoughts, yelling, screaming at him. The words were too cluttered to make any sense, but he dared not ask to have them repeated, dreading the possibility of having this entire scene repeated. Physical anguish was one thing, but this, this psyche penalty was intolerable...for anyone. The one conscious thought he could follow cascaded his mind towards the medical sheet on the top of his desk. Whoever that girl was-having the empathic ability to tap into other's minds and emotions...but having to dwell with the mental sentiments of everyone around her at the same time...their passions, their feelings-whoever she was, the mission to find her. He shook his head in dismay. What was her name? Rattled back into reality by the screeching of his superior.  
  
"Where is the girl?" the voice expanded. "Have you checked her?"  
  
"We have checked one female, and one male. The male has been exceptionally difficult to work with." The moment he said that, he knew he should have taken it back. A sudden ringing raging in his ears agreed with him. He squinted his eyes, trying to pretend that could somehow that could extinguish the pain inside. Trying to make up for it, he quickly added,  
  
".We haven't lost hope yet-he will cave in shortly. If not, he'll die, but either way it's worth something. If he dies, the rest of their league will come, and if he doesn't, he will prove worthy to us," he swallowed quietly, hoping that answer would appease.  
  
"You better hope," it said calmly, "that your faith is worth something. If it's not." The sentence did not need to be finished. A colossal strain that was felt within the walls of his brow was an answer he did not wish to respond to. Without rhyme or reason, the voice in his head unexpectedly vanished, leaving the man against the wall, crouched in a fetal position.  
  
After being relieved from the pain, his head fell back against the wall. Resting a few moments, he found enough strength to walk back to his desk, rubbing his forehead. Opening the top drawer of the desk, placing his hand inside, and he withdrew a cloth-covered object. The cloth was flannel, with red plaid decorating it. It seemed out of place, as though it had been put in the drawer by accident. With fringes on the side, he quizzically looked at the object, not sure about whether or not he wanted to use something of this magnitude. In a moment of quick decision, his eyes became illuminated with thought He gently swept the cloth aside, and the reflection of the object glimmered in light, almost blinding his eyes. Pulling it close to him, he whispered,  
  
"Maybe now Kilmartin will talk."  
  
(A summary of the chapter, for those that didn't understand it: basically, the scientist that worked on Jesse, got pretty ticked off and went on a rampage, destroying his office. He then sits down at his desk and reviews some files that were placed on there earlier. One of them is about a tel- empath that these people are trying to capture. Then as he tries to figure out what's going on, something outside his door is creating strange noises. Repeatedly, he checks but no one is there. Later, when he puts all his fears to rest, he's attacked by the same people that attacked the MX team. When he recovers from his attack and his conversation, he goes to his desk and reveals the one instrument that will make Jesse talk-.sorry, decided to try something new and create a different angle [show you guys what other people are doing, not just the MXers.] I guess I know not to do that now. :-) )  
  
(Okay, you guys, I'm sorry it's so short. I think I must be losing my touch (if I ever had it) because no one is reviewing anymore. My first chapter I got a lot of reviews, and in my fifth chapter I got four. Either no one's reading or what, but because of that I take it as my cue to go and stop writing, and I s'pect I'm gonna stop. Thanks to the faithful, y'all were great! And to Jill, thanks, I got your email as I was uploading this document! This'll be my last chapter, so, cheers-) 


	7. Chapter 7

(Sorry for the delay, folks! Maybe we'll try this again, maybe not. We'll see how it goes.)  
  
Emma's heartbeat grew more deafening as the silence beyond the door grew painfully quiet. Earlier, she had consequently capered towards the door, after hearing the agonizing shrieking that had come from behind it. Pressing her ear against the door, she strained to hear what was not there. As the silence encompassed the room, Emma felt sure that something was still present, but she was unable to attend to the slightest noise. After a few moments had passed, she squinted her eyes with disillusionment, and a small tear ran down her cheek. Leaving a small, damp streak on her face, she was fighting her mind to tell her that it wasn't true...that her teammate hadn't left her and that he wasn't going to return. Logic argued otherwise. No matter what, she attested, she was never going to give up on Jesse-he had been too stubborn to give up on her. Yet, she acquiesced with silent composure, he may not have a choice. Thoughts, worries, and fears wouldn't depart, and she had evolved into a better understanding that to try to get a hit off Jesse could prove precarious-the 'creatures' on the opposite side of the wooden door would interfere, possibly rendering her psionic abilities indefinitely.  
  
Thoughts enveloped her mind ever since Jesse had slipped through the wall; some of them were expected, but others were relatively surprising. When moments had seemed like hours, and minutes were days, Emma had become even more vulnerable to the surrounding views of others. At first, they were rash and abrasive, cutting into her mind like a blade. Although they soon calmed, and began to soothingly (but forcibly) enter her mind, she couldn't keep them out. Some of the emotions depicted fear, one of an intense hatred-additional sentiments were those of disappointment and anger. While these seemed to be normal reactions, Emma couldn't help but notice how it was her own feelings that surprised her: before the raucous scream, her brain had felt resentment towards Jesse. Pondering, questioning if he still considered her the 'baby' of the group. It was a reputation she had long since been trying to dispose of, and it was times like these that reminded her how much he was right. Shalimar, Brennan, and Adam knew she could fend for herself, but it was convincing Jesse that worried her-what if she couldn't?  
  
Either way, she thought, looking up, that was not something to worry herself with now. The door, that presented her current situation with such danger, still locked away the mystery of her teammates, Jesse, the car crash, and these complex individuals. She felt up and down the door, running her fingers along the rough, wooden edges. Anything could be behind the door now, she noted, but the possibility that they might have already disappeared kept crossing her mind. It was unfeasible not to wonder if they had gone. Steadying herself with the doorknob, she rose off the floor, brushing the dust specks off her skirt.  
  
"He has to be close by," she spoke aloud, eliminating the remaining particles in one sweep of her hand. "And I'm not about to just sit around here waiting for him."  
  
She folded her hands gently onto her face, and tried to recapture the events. They had obviously not left her mind, but she couldn't help but think there was something she was forgetting. That scream-it was female, to be sure. It could not have belonged to Jesse; Jesse didn't know how to cry. He kept his emotions locked away, in some tin box located in the bottom of his heart. She had always known that-but she couldn't shake the feeling it had come from someone she knew. Someone she had perhaps been close to at one point in time. The pain of that person had stretched through her---making her tremble with fear. And yet.  
  
There was no time to think about that now. With an unwavering eye, she stood abruptly, facing the door. It was inconceivable to use that door, knowing that her enemies were only footsteps away. "If there's a will, there's a way," She mentioned quietly to herself. Finding a way around the door would be tough, but understandably, it had to be done. If Jesse was here, she reminded herself, she could do this. He knew every street, and how these marketplaces were set up at this part of town. His intelligence streamed across these buildings, knowing how they were built, where doors and such were located-floor plans and the like. Ever since one mutant had outwitted him by a trap door, he scanned his computer for information so no one could do it again. He didn't like things he could not control---he figured if he knew everything that, someday, no one could beat him.  
  
Perhaps she had always known, but it hit her like a sack of bricks how he had come to such a pass. How defenseless he could come within a matter of seconds. Perhaps it wasn't until now how much she realized Jesse helped the group. She needed to find a way out of here, a way of getting Jesse back, and alerting Brennan, Adam, and Shalimar. Things would be all right if they would just come back and help her-but where were they? Jesse said Brennan had left to get Adam...and Shal...she had to be with Jesse-where ever he was. But Brennan had been gone too long for comfort.  
  
Stretching yet again, Emma looked across the room. This was the first time she had been able to walk around for quite some time. Before she had not seen this place at all-and the moonlight proved difficult to see even now. Glancing confirmed the lack of clarity of objects within the room, but it didn't keep her from stumbling across and exploring. Although still somewhat weak, she wobbled a bit, catching herself on the wall. Moving forward, she was determined that nothing would stop her. The dim lighting faulted her vision into tripping on something beneath her shoe. Her mind kept buzzing over what it might have been, scanning it. Reaching towards the ground, Emma kept her hands on her back, grunting slightly as it was still sore. It had lain directly where she and Jesse had been trying to sleep earlier.  
  
Carefully holding it between her fingers, she gently rose back to her original position. The item itself was curious in shape, being long and cylindrical. It was smooth, but sharp on the edges, and from what Emma could tell rather plain looking. Dark and looming, it placed a small shudder in Emma's shoulders, and gave a feeling of 'unwanted-ness" that she couldn't help but embrace. She ran her fingers along it, and a small, shimmering symbol reflected the moonlight. It was small enough to be carried and unseen. "It must have come out of Jesse's pocket," she whispered to herself, and placed it in her pocket. It was rather odd that she hadn't noticed it earlier-but then again, it was hardly visible upon the floor-she would never had found it had her foot not tumbled on it. Digging back into her pocket, she pulled it out and took careful observation. It was curious why Jesse would be holding that in his possession. Cocking her head to the side, placing her forefinger on the side, she shook her head silently, figuring that Jesse might need it later- or perhaps even have a purpose for it.  
  
Putting her mind back on track, she felt along the walls for another exit to the building. The walls weren't smooth, and her fingers ran into numerous rusty nails and pieces of cheap paint flaked off the walls and back onto the floor. She kept close to the wall for many reasons; one of them was so she knew where she was going, but the other was in anticipation of an oncoming, and un-welcomed visitor. Peering along the walls, the light was getting brighter and she knew that dawn wouldn't be far off. She quickened her pace, fearing that if she lost anytime, Jesse wouldn't make it. He had saved her life before, and now it was time for her, she reasoned, to return the favor.  
  
Noting that the light appeared brighter ahead of her, she tried squinting her eyes long enough to see more than 4 feet in front of her. To her surprise, her fingers had led her in the right direction, and continued to the corner of one of the walls. The building seemed to extend further, and another entrance became visible. Letting go of the wall, Emma felt a sure cry for her to keep moving hastily forward, that each step meant more. Beating harder with each step, her pulse quickened until she could feel it in her throat, and clutched the object in her pocket, bracing herself for the unknown.  
  
Setting on her trek, numerous thoughts ran through her mind-things she could barely rationalize. Among of all of them, Emma had only one reoccurring determination that would not leave her alone, a deepening emotion that she could not sway...Now, no matter where Jesse was, what he was feeling, what he was going through or why, he had left her with the one thing she couldn't take: a bad goodbye.  
  
And she was determined to get that goodbye back. 


End file.
